Baby Killer
by TacticianZephine
Summary: IDWverse: Micron, a seasoned mechaforensics detective with all the street smarts that come with growing up in Iacon, and his young partner, Prowl, investigate string of youngling deaths. Even more shocking than the savagery of the crimes is the identity of the killer. (Warning: Rated for death and gore. Features a couple of familiar OC faces)
1. Chapter 1

**So, I started the plotline for this back when I first bought ****_Shadowplay: Part One_****, but because of the Transformers Prime season finale and my tendency to write in bulk when I am emotional, it got done long before expected. This is a look at pre-war "I wanna be the best cop ever" Prowl.**

* * *

Some don't possess the ability to socialize properly. I am one of them. I live with a social phobia of sorts as a result of a condition with a very long and complicated medical name, identified non-medically as "Failure of the Pre-Frontal Cortex Module to Develop". Which is exactly what it is. I've always known that I was supposed to use my talents to help others, but due to my syndrome, I wasn't sure how to go about it.

Instead of "normal" social skills, I developed a considerably high level of mental strength. I'm skilled in the areas of mathematics (mostly in the sectors involving logic, estimation, calculation, probability, and statistics), observation, problem-solving, rationalization, event mapping, and memorization.

I am able to observe eight hundred moving objects and compute their directions of travel in 0.05 nanokliks. I can also do this in reverse. It takes a little longer, but it is an invaluable skill to have. I can map out every possible scenario based off of minimal information, even one miniscule piece of evidence. My disorder allows me to consciously detach from all emotion, which, I think, is why I'm able to look at the most horrific of crime scenes and focus on my work. Especially in the area of dead younglings, but I'll get to that. I haven't managed to keep all of my emotions in check, I'm still working on it.

But put me in a situation that requires me to interact with ordinary citizens?

I stumble over my words, I lose all train of thought, and due to the misophonia associated with the syndrome, I occasionally become physically enraged upon hearing certain sounds that are natural. Intake cycling, chewing, joints clicking, the sound of fidgeting. Thus, I am most content and calm in the company of the dead.

After primary education, I attended the Iacon Academy of Crime Studies, where I specialized in the areas of theoretical physics, kinesiology, psychology and behavioral science, mechaforensics, and mechanthropology. Crime scene investigation, law enforcement, and detective work fascinated me from the word "go". I was interested in how the minds of crimminals worked, particularly serial killers, psychotics, sociopaths. I knew my mind didn't work properly, but theirs, it seemed, worked too well.

A long time ago, I investigated a string of nine youngling deaths, all the work of a single, depraved killer. Horrific, gruesome, unspeakable acts of brutal savagery. And the resolution shocked even me. That's the case that will haunt me forever. It was the case that lost me my first partner, Micron. The only one I ever really could get along with.


	2. Chapter 2

The call had come in early, I wasn't even on-duty yet. I was just waking up, actually.

_:Prowl, rise and shine, kick that hooker out of your berth and come to the office,: _Micron drawled over line as I answered the call.

"But there isn't a-that was a joke." I took a sip of my energon cube. "What's the problem?"

_:We got a dead youngling uptown. Local law officers are on the scene now.:_

"Isn't it Blackbox and Scraps's turn to take a case?"

_:We're caseless thanks to your one hundred percent efficiency. Look, kid, I don't make the rules, I just do what I'm told. I'm coding you the address, meet you there.:_

"Thank you, Micron, I'll be there shortly."

**  
I arrived quickly, just after Micron, and took a look at the scene. What were my facts from a once-over?

1) The victim was a femmeling, roughly in her third or fourth frame.  
2) She'd lost enough energon for exsanguination to be a possible cause of death.  
3) Source of energon: slash wounds to the face and body of varied size. Not an accident.

"What've we got?" Micron asked me.

"At first glance, femmeling, third or fourth frame, potential causes of death all point to foul play, the slash wounds on her body are not self-inflicted. Her assailant wanted her to suffer. Where are the creators?"

"Over there," he nodded, pointing to a sobbing pink femme and a tight-lip-componented purple mech. "Mother's understandably upset. Try to be nice?"

"No." I approached the victim's family, speaking slowly for my own benefit, not theirs. "Hello, my name is Prowl, I'm with the mechaforensics office. I need to ask you some questions."

"Anything to help," the sire nodded. "But, please, let me take care of my mate very quickly, she's very ill, and this is just so upsetting..."

"Understood."

He led his female out, and I looked back at the crime scene. She'd been slaughtered in her berthroom, that much was certain by the environment. Toys, datapads, the like.

The sire returned quickly, tapping me on the shoulder. I hid my surprise well, turning. "Are you all right to answer questions, then?"

"Yes. I think so."

"All right. For the report... what was... excuse me, what _is_ your daughter's name?"

"Misty," he nodded. "Her name is Misty. It's short for Mysteria, she had a talent for chameleonism."

"All right. Age?"

"She's in her fourth frame, the toddler-youngling transition."

"All right. I hate to have to ask this, but... did you or your mate recieve any threats? Did your daughter? Is there... anyone that would want to hurt her, or the family?"

"No... no, Misty was a sweet femmeling, no one would ever..."

I held up a hand. "Did she have any friends who might know something you don't?"

"Are you suggesting that my daughter was keeping secrets from us?"

"No, sir, I'm simply suggesting that younglings tend to tell more to their friends than to their creators-"

The sire grabbed me by my collarstrut and shook me. "HOW DARE YOU-"

Micron stepped in. "Sir, if you don't release my partner, I'll have to arrest you, and that's in no one's best interest. You've been through more than any creator should have to endure, and we're only trying to help. My partner's just not the most tactful mech around, that's all, he wasn't trying to offend."

The mech released me, and I moved away from him. Micron moved me back to the crime scene. "Study that."


End file.
